Until the Fear Is Leaving
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. Post-CW. Non-Stucky. "'It's different each time...but it always ends the same way.' Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't said it was a recurring nightmare, but that would explain why it was affecting him so much. When Steve fell silent, Bucky gently prompted, 'How does it end? ' ... 'I say, Hail Hydra.'"


**Author's Note: This is my contribution to the anti-Hydra!Cap movement. I can't even put into _words_ how stupid and offensive that decision was, and the only good that's come out of it is allowing us a chance to assert even more strongly than ever what Captain America has always stood for. Ever since I heard what the idiots at Marvel had decided was a good idea, I've been thinking about how I would handle it if I were in charge of the MCU. I mean, the easiest choice would just be to say, "No way, I refuse to accept that as canon, so we're not even going to acknowledge it." But is there a way to actually include it in the MCU canon without ret-conning everything that makes Cap the awesome character he is? This was my solution, and honestly I think it's the _only_ way you could possibly get Cap to say, "Hail Hydra."  
**

 **A word of warning: The middle part gets quite violent, and the ending is very touchy-feely. I know there are some of you, maybe even _most_ of you, who won't be able to see it as anything other than Stucky, but I assure you that is not my intent. I just see this as two men who have had very strange, very traumatic lives who are in desperate need of comfort and affection. And so by this point, they've decided, "Forget whatever cultural norms say straight adult males are allowed to do. I am going to give you what you need."**

 _Hold me now  
Until the fear is leaving  
I am barely breathing  
Crying out  
These tired wings are falling  
I need you to catch me_

 _\- "Hold Me Now" by Red_

Bucky wasn't a heavy sleeper. He hadn't been for a long time. He could vaguely remember a time when he would groggily open his eyes and find Steve bending over him, laughing about how he wouldn't wake up even when Steve tickled his feet or splashed water on him. But all of that was so long ago, it felt like a different lifetime, like it had happened to someone else in a movie. Now, even when he managed to get through the night without a nightmare or a flashback, he would wake up at odd times and be unable to go back to sleep.

So at first, he thought that was what had happened—his body had just decided on its own, _Hey, we've been asleep under the ice for the better part of seventy years; it's time to wake up now._ He opened his eyes, blinked at the darkened ceiling for a moment or two, then sighed and started to roll over in a vain attempt to fall back asleep.

It was only when his left arm refused to move with him that he realized this time was different from usual. He rolled onto his back again and looked over in surprise to find Steve sitting on the floor next to his bed. His knees were drawn up tight against his chest, his forehead rested on his knees, and one hand clutched Bucky's so hard his knuckles were turning white. Bucky's metal arm could detect movement and pressure to a certain extent, but it couldn't feel warmth or texture, so he'd had no idea someone was even touching him.

"Steve?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Steve looked up. In the dim light from the bathroom that Bucky always kept on, he could see that Steve's eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from lack of sleep. Or maybe something else. "Sorry," Steve muttered, pulling his hand away. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Bucky shrugged as well as he could lying down. "What's up?"

Steve glanced up at him, then quickly returned his gaze to his knees. "I...had a nightmare."

Bucky's breath caught in his throat. How was it that, even though Steve was coming to _him_ for help, it was helping him just as much? Even though the man sitting by his bed was 6'2'' and weighed 240 pounds of pure muscle and bravery, he was still every bit the skinny little kid who would shake him awake in the middle of the night when his parents were gone. And because he acted like the old Steve, Bucky found himself reacting like the old Bucky. Like no time had intervened between them. Like he was still the same person.

So, just as he always used to do, Bucky scooted over and folded back a corner of the covers. "Come on."

Of course, it was much harder now for Steve to fit in his twin-sized bed than it used to be. Bucky had to lie on his side, his back pressed up against the wall, and Steve still barely had room with the two inches of space between them they knew Bucky needed. He was getting better about it, but physical contact still made him nervous. It reminded him too much of the people who had changed his body and his mind against his will, whose every touch seemed to bring pain.

Shoving the pillow under Steve's head, Bucky propped himself up on his left arm, which would never get tired. Once Steve was settled under the covers, Bucky realized that every minute or so, an involuntary shudder would run through Steve's entire frame. This wasn't just a regular nightmare (if there even _was_ such a thing when you were Captain America). Steve was _terrified._

"Tell me."

Steve closed his eyes and shuddered again. "I don't even want to _think_ about it."

"But you obviously are, so you might as well tell me about it." He smiled slightly. "Trust me, I know—it helps."

Steve glanced at him. They were both thinking of the nights Bucky would wake up screaming, thinking Hydra had caught him again. Steve would sit with him for hours, letting him talk himself hoarse. Zemo had been right—once he opened his mouth, the horrors wouldn't cease. But it was like extracting poison—the more he talked about it, the less it could hurt him.

Steve sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "It's different each time...but it always ends the same way."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't said it was a _recurring_ nightmare, but that would explain why it was affecting him so much. When Steve fell silent, Bucky gently prompted, "How does it end?"

This time, his shudder shook the whole bed. "I say, 'Hail Hydra.'"

* * *

He stood on the front porch of a modest red-brick house in the suburbs. He fished around in his pocket for his key, but before he could find it, the door was flung open by a small someone who launched himself at Steve's knees. "Daddy!"

"Hey there, squirt," Steve laughed, swinging the little boy up into his arms.

His sister, only two years older, came running down the hallway toward them, brown curls bouncing cheerfully around her face. "Mummy, Dad's home!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"And how is Princess Victoria?" He made a show of kissing her hand and bowing low.

"Come on!" Victoria giggled, tugging on his hand. "You have to greet the queen now!"

He let her lead him into the dining room, where the queen stood radiant in an apron, putting the pot roast on the table. "You made it back just in time," she said, unable to stop smiling. "For once you're not late."

"That was one time, Peggy." With his son in one arm and his daughter hanging onto the pinky of his other hand, he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Once they were all seated, Peggy said, "Freddie, would you say the blessing?"

Fred immediately folded his hands, scrunched up his eyes, and said in a single breath, "GodpleaseblessthisfoodandblessMummyandDaddyandVictoriaandmeAMEN!"

It was the perfect dinner after being away on S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Peggy brought him up to date on what was happening in the neighborhood, Victoria told him what she'd been learning in school, and Fred flatly refused to eat his carrots until Steve told him he had a surprise for them all. After that, it was all he could do to keep Fred from _inhaling_ his vegetables.

When all their plates were empty, Victoria and Fred turned to him with sparkling eyes. "What's the surprise, Daddy?"

Steve smiled at their eagerness. "This." He pulled out his pistol and shot Fred right between the eyes.

Before the excited smile could even slip off Victoria's face, he shot her through the temple. Both children slumped over the table, blood pooling in their empty plates.

" _Steve...?_ " Peggy gaped at him in horror, the shock keeping the tears at bay for now. She stumbled to her feet, staring at him as though she'd never seen him before. He stood as well and shot her twice through the heart.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

Steve knocked on the door of the little apartment, already grinning. Within moments, the door opened and the woman inside let out a cry of delight. "Steve! Oh, my _baby!_ " She threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

"I missed you too, Mother." Gently, he pried her arms away long enough to step over the threshold.

She wiped her eyes and stepped back to admire him, rubbing a hand over his arm. "Oh, look at him," she said, smiling over her shoulder. "He's grown so tall and handsome."

Steve looked over as well and saw his father standing there—holding his pipe, his eyes twinkling, just as he remembered from his childhood. "How are you, Steve?" he asked, stepping forward.

"Never better," Steve said with a grin as he firmly shook his father's hand.

"I'm proud of you, son," he said, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. "You've done so much good for this country. You make a man proud to be called your father."

A tension he hadn't noticed slipped from his shoulders. "I'm glad," Steve said. "That will make this so much easier."

And he stabbed a butcher knife all the way through his father's chest.

His mother screamed, but Steve yanked the knife out of his father's chest and, in a single fluid motion, sliced at his mother's throat. His movement was so forceful that it completely severed her head. Both bodies thudded heavily to the floor.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

Sharon smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks rosy as he gazed back down at her. Neither of them knew how to dance, so they stayed off the dance floor and simply swayed in time with the music. Her arms were around his waist. She was beautiful, and for once he was happy.

He moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face, and leaned in to kiss her. She responded in kind, leaning into his embrace and trailing her fingers through his hair.

They broke apart, and Steve could feel Sharon's heart thudding against his chest. His grip tightened around her head, and he shoved her with all of his considerable strength at the nearest wall. Her skull crunched under his palms.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

"All of those deaths were your fault."

Wanda gazed up at him, her skin ashen, her eyes hollow. "I know," she whispered.

"Then you also know why I'm here." Steve lifted the gun. "I have to make sure you never make that mistake again."

Wanda tilted her head back and leaned against the wall behind her. "Do it," she said dully, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Just one thing? Make it as painless as possible."

Steve turned the pistol over in his hands. "Now why would I do that?" He raised the gun and beat her to death with the butt, making sure she stayed conscious until her face was barely recognizable as human.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

A grenade clattered across the floor in Steve's direction. Natasha, assessing the situation in an instant, launched herself at Steve. She was intending to push him to the side while he covered them with his shield.

Instead, Steve kicked Natasha straight into the path of the grenade, and folded himself up behind his shield. The blast knocked him off his feet and through the wall, but he landed unscathed. He couldn't say the same of Natasha.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

Steve pummeled every inch of Tony's face that he could reach, not letting him up for a second. His suit was failing. The light on his chest was flickering. It wouldn't take long.

He grabbed the shield beside him, raised it high over his head with both hands, then brought it crashing down against Tony's skull, splattering his brains against the concrete.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

"Sam, I need a ride."

"I'm on it!"

Sam swooped down in the middle of the battle, soaring low over Steve's position. Steve leapt into the air, but instead of grabbing Sam's outstretched hand, he grasped one of the Falcon wings.

"What the—"

That was all Sam had a chance to say before Steve yanked him out of the air and hurled him straight into the propellers of a passing helicopter.

"Hail Hydra."

* * *

Steve stepped into the cold underground chamber and looked around at the various scientific contraptions cluttering the room. There were no doctors making notes, no scientists testing theories. The room was empty, except for Steve and the man strapped to the chair at the other end of the room.

"Steve!" Bucky called, straining against the metal clamps holding him down. "Get me out of here!"

Steve crossed over to him in slow, easy strides. "Are you ready to comply, Soldier?"

Bucky went completely still, seeming to shrink in on himself as he stared up at Steve. "What?"

Slamming his hands on the back of the chair and leaning right into Bucky's personal space, he snarled, "I _said,_ are you ready to _comply?_ "

Confusion. Hurt. Disbelief. If blood began to drip from those eyes, they could hardly look more pained. "No..."

Steve wasn't sure if that was his answer or just a refusal to believe what was happening. Either way, Steve raised his hand and slapped Bucky across the face, first one cheek and then the other.

Bucky froze with his head turned to the side. Slowly, his tongue ran across his split lip, tasting the blood trickling from the cut Steve's knuckles had made. His chest was beginning to heave as he turned back to Steve. His eyes were full of tears. "Why?"

Steve leaned in closer, so there was nowhere Bucky could turn to escape his cold gaze. "Why not?"

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back far enough to reach the control panel set up next to the chair. At the press of a button, the bands around Bucky's arms tightened, holding him in place, and two metal plates extended on either side of his head.

"Please!" Bucky yelled, the tears now spilling from his eyes. "Don't do this! You're not like this! This isn't _you!_ "

Steve paused, his hand resting on the switch. "What the hell do you think you know about me, Bucky?"

He pulled the switch. Power surged through the machine, sparking from the metal plates mere inches from Bucky's temples. Bucky glanced nervously to the side, trying to keep them in view while Steve pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. As he placed his hands on the outside of the metal plates, Bucky's eyes flicked back to him.

"You don't know a single thing about me." Their faces were so close now they were almost touching. " _This_ is who I am."

He shoved his hands together, slamming the sparking metal plates against the sides of Bucky's face. A scream ripped out of Bucky's throat, and every bit of him that could still move strained against his bonds, trying desperately to break free. But Steve's hands clamped around his head, not letting him escape the pain even for an instant.

Steve watched dispassionately as Bucky's whole body twitched and shook. Screams of agony ripped from his gaping mouth, ceasing only when he paused to gasp for another breath. Gradually, the screams formed a single word. "Pleeeeease!" Or maybe it was "Steeeeeve!"

Steve just remained where he was, trapping Bucky in his world of pain. "Hail Hydra."

* * *

"I...know it's not real," Steve finished. "But I just...can't stop thinking about it."

Bucky gazed at his friend. Some people would think the worst kind of nightmare was one where they were being hurt. That was usually what Bucky's nightmares consisted of—vivid memories of pain that left his nerves tingling even after he woke up. Steve was no stranger to physical pain; he'd lived with it practically his whole life. Perhaps _because_ he'd grown so used to pain, he'd always focused instead on helping people and doing what was right. So the worst thing he could imagine would be hurting others.

Bucky sighed and pushed himself up higher, so he was balancing himself on his hand rather than his elbow, and leaned over to look down at Steve. "You know that's completely ridiculous, right? You, working for Hydra?" He snorted. "Hell would freeze over first."

Steve looked at him with an expression of such agony you'd think someone was stabbing him, the drama queen. "How can you be so sure? What if I—"

"No." Bucky leaned over farther, till he was actually resting against Steve's chest. His breath hitched at the contact, but he held his ground. For the first time he could remember, Steve actually flinched when their eyes met. What did Steve see now when he looked at him? Could he only see the horrors his mind had created?

"No," he said again. He wasn't going to let this happen. Moving slowly and deliberately, he placed his hands on either side of Steve's face, holding him in place. He knew Steve could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, screaming to _run, get away, don't let them touch you,_ but he refused to listen to it. Right now, Steve's fear was more important than his own. His fingers gently pressed against Steve's temples, as if he could push everything in his heart through them and into Steve's mind.

"I know Hydra from the inside out. So I know that although Hydra claims it's working for the greater good, it's actually full of greed and hatred. And _you_ have never hated anyone in your life. The only thing you hate is injustice. You don't even hate your enemies; you just want to stop them." Not for the first time, he looked down at Steve with a sad kind of almost-jealousy. He wished he could be that good of a person.

"And don't try to tell me you hate them in secret. It's not just that you're a terrible liar. It wouldn't be _possible_ for you to hide that kind of hate. Not from everyone. Not from me." He took a deep breath, forcing his mind away from the darkness of his memories. "You know...even when I was the Winter Soldier...and you didn't know who was under the mask...you still didn't hate me. That was part of what confused me so much. I didn't...know what that was like."

His breath drew short and his throat closed around the words he wanted to say. There _were_ no words to express what Steve had done for him. He leaned forward even more, till their foreheads gently pressed against each other. Bucky hadn't dared get this close to someone in a long time. His heart pounded against Steve's chest and his breath was shallow, but he held his hands steady. Was it possible to brainwash someone with love? Could he stuff so much affection into Steve's mind that a simple word would make him remember who he really was?

Steve shivered again, though not as violently as before. "I'm afraid to close my eyes," he whispered, his breath ghosting over Bucky's face.

Without moving his head, Bucky stroked his thumbs across Steve's cheeks. "Don't be." His chest was tight with anxiety, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "You have nothing to fear. Hydra is full of lies. You're the most honest person I know. Hydra uses coercion. You defend our freedom. Hydra only knows how to kill and threaten others. You sacrifice yourself, over and over again, to protect people."

His fingers stilled, resting in the well-known contours of Steve's face. " _Thank you_ for not being _anything_ like Hydra."

Even though his eyes were closed, he could feel the smile growing under his hands. Steve's fingers trailed through Bucky's hair and then, tentatively, to his cheek. His fingers shook slightly as he rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on Bucky's cheek. "When did you get so eloquent?"

Bucky let his head slide down till it rested next to Steve's on the pillow, pressing his forehead against Steve's warm cheek. He was trembling, his heart rate finally slowing down as his body realized he wasn't about to die after all. "Hey, _you're_ the one always making impromptu speeches about truth and justice. Don't look at _me._ "

Steve chuckled, and Bucky smiled to feel it vibrate all through him. Steve's hand rested on the back of Bucky's head, a warm, safe presence. "Thank you."

"Shush. Go back to sleep."

And they did. They slept through a long, dreamless night and didn't wake again till the sun was high in the sky.


End file.
